


Good Morning

by stfustucky (iwillpaintasongforlou)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bottom Peter Parker, Domestic Fluff, Future Fic, Hand Feeding, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Morning Sex, Riding, Top Tony Stark, all characters are 18+, no betas we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:20:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24578935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwillpaintasongforlou/pseuds/stfustucky
Summary: A sleepy morning scene between Peter and Tony, complete with handfeeding and morning sex. 100% softness, sugary enough to sweeten your coffee with.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Tony Stark
Comments: 6
Kudos: 216





	Good Morning

**Author's Note:**

> An old oneshot, found while cleaning out my google drive. Bon appetit!

The stove gave one final sizzle as Tony flicked the burner off, plating the rest of the food with a few flicks of his spatula. It wasn’t anything complicated, just a few sausage patties and some diced potatoes, but he knew Peter wouldn’t mind. He’d never seen someone so easily pleased, charmed beyond words by the simplest of gestures. Tony loved that about him, among the million other things there were to adore about his young lover.

“Petey?” he called out now, bringing the plates to the breakfast table and returning to the fridge to pour some glasses of orange juice-- the imported organic kind that cost $20 a bottle but Peter insisted tasted the best. “Breakfast is ready, sweetheart, come eat.” Tony busied himself gathering the rest of the things they might need to go with their food and sank onto one of the cushioned benches by the table.

Peter appeared in the doorway then, obedient as always, naked except for the thin white sheet wrapped around him. He’d been wearing underwear when the two woke up together an hour ago, but it hadn’t lasted long. Not when Tony had been in the mood to rim Peter until he cried and then watch the boy come on Tony’s fingers. Now he was dressed in what Tony preferred to see him in --absolutely nothing-- and his hair was fluffy and tousled with sleep and sex.

He must have fallen asleep after Tony got up and came to fix them something to eat, because one cheek now had a pillow crease and his eyes were glazed and lidded. Peter shuffled over to the table, his bare feet making gentle padding noises on the hardwood floors. “Hey, handsome,” Tony said softly. “Hungry?”

A sleepy bob of Peter’s head was the only response, and then Peter was shuffling over and sinking to the floor in front of Tony’s bench. He nuzzled into the soft inside of Tony’s knee until the man spread his legs enough for Peter to scoot forward and lean his cheek against Tony’s inner thigh. “Hi,” he said softly, sleepy brown eyes gazing up at Tony with absolute contentment.

Tony had to fight back the lump of emotion choking him up before he could speak. “Good morning again,” he murmured, tracing the fading pillow mark on Peter’s cheekbone. He looked like a greek statue like that, at Tony’s feet in his artfully draped sheet. Tony had dressed himself in a silky gray robe when he’d made his own way into the kitchen earlier, and the fine fabric looked even more decadent now with Peter’s ivory skin and chocolate curls resting against it.

Peter didn’t answer him that time, didn’t ask for a thing. He also didn’t need to. Tony knew what he wanted, and was more than happy to give it to him. He reached over to the plate he’d fixed for Peter and tore off a piece of sausage, just a bite sized morsel, and extended his hand to offer the treat just in front of Peter’s lips. “Eat up, gorgeous.”

And Peter did, gently, his lips and tongue ghosting over Tony’s fingertips every time Tony offered him another bite. It was only a heartbeat before they relaxed into the rhythm of it, sleep drunk and comfortable in each other’s company. Tony fed himself bites off of his own plate while Peter chewed, sipping juice and offering that to Peter, too. Tony’s free hand found a home in Peter’s hair, stroking along his scalp lightly, smiling to himself every time his fingers scraped gently at the soft fuzz at the nape of Peter’s neck and the boy all but purred with contentment.

It was a long while before the plates were emptied and the glasses drained. Peter hummed quietly. “Dessert now?”

Tony tilted his head, considering. “Like some fruit? Or you mean like actual dessert? There’s some cheesecake from the place in Madrid the other night--”

“No,” Peter said, turning his face to nuzzle the inside of Tony’s thigh and give the soft skin a tiny little nip.  _ “Dessert.” _

“Oh,” Tony said breathily, and then again with more gusto as Peter slid his hand up Tony’s leg beneath the silk of the robe.  _ “Oh.  _ Didn’t get enough this morning, baby?”

He could see Peter’s hand moving beneath the shiny fabric, a little ripple of silk the only evidence to support what Tony’s body was telling him-- that Peter had his perfect little fingers wrapped around Tony’s cock and were tugging it expertly to hardness. It didn’t take a lot of effort. He’d been halfway there ever since he’d woken up to Peter grinding against his hip in a dream that morning. Peter’s satisfied smile was confident, perfectly aware of how gone Tony was for him. “Never get enough of you, Tony.”

“Then take what you need,” Tony answered in the same breath.

Peter was on his feet in a second, knees planting on either side of Tony’s thighs, and Tony half-growled his approval. The sheet fell away from Peter and revealed that he was hard as well, cock so pretty and flushed with a little drop of pearly white at the slit. Tony wondered how long Peter had been hard for. Was it just since he’d asked for dessert? Since before then? Since he walked into the room?

Tony slid down a little in his seat to give Peter room to work, but brushed his hand away before he could grip Tony’s cock. “Wait a minute, sweetheart, be patient,” he said quietly, fingers seeking out Peter’s entrance. “Lemme check, make sure you’re ready for--”

“I just had your fingers an hour ago, I’m ready,” Peter huffed, impatient, and it’s his turn to knock Tony’s hand aside. He didn’t even give Tony time to argue. He was sliding down onto Tony’s cock before the man could get a word in edgewise, tight despite this morning’s activities, but no less eager to get his ass flush against Tony’s lap.

It was lazy and self-indulgent, but Tony just stretched his arms out to lay across the backrest of the bench, spreading himself wide for Peter to take and use however he wanted. Peter didn’t seem to mind. He gripped onto Tony’s shoulders for leverage, rising and falling steadily with his eyes closed in pleasure. Tony wanted to close his too, but he couldn’t miss this sight. He could never bear to shut out any opportunity to see Peter happy and satisfied in Tony’s presence. Instead, he kept them open and drank in the sight, watching Peter’s lithe body roll against his with muscles flexing and skin shivering all the way.

When he looked down, Tony could just make out the bulge of Peter’s cock sliding against Tony’s stomach beneath the fabric of the robe. Peter hadn’t half bothered to push the clothing aside when he’d climbed into Tony’s lap, and now he was fucking into the soft folds, each little burst of precome darkening the silk along the path where his cock dragged. 

Peter was getting close, Tony could sense it, and he pressed his hand over the bulge in the fabric to add some friction to the glide. “There you go,” he murmured, coaxing, curling in to press a kiss to Peter’s collarbones. “Take what you want. You want to come for me, darling? Use my cock to make you feel good? I’d love that, sweetheart. I want you to let go for me. Let me give you what you need.”

Somewhere in the middle of his ramblings Peter’s knees started to grip tight around Tony’s hips, and Tony knew it was all over then. He grabbed Tony’s face as he slammed down on Tony’s cock, moaning against Tony’s mouth, not even so much a kiss as it was an exhale of pleasure right into Tony’s soul. The thin fabric of Tony’s robe was soaked in an instant, warm come sliding slick and messy against the skin of Tony’s stomach, and Peter rubbed himself right into the mess and just shamelessly chased the shuddering aftershocks of his orgasm.

Tony let him take it, everything he needed, and then he had his turn. Once Peter had turned boneless against Tony and devolved into whimpering groggily into his hair, Tony then gripped Peter’s hips and fucked up into him. This part wasn’t about Peter, just like the last part hadn’t been about Tony, and Peter dug his fingernails into Tony’s skin and only gave one single moan as Tony pounded into him. 

Less than a minute passed before Tony was slamming their hips together and holding them there as he came, grinding up into Peter’s heat until he crashed over the peak of sensation and started to come down again. Peter was there, stroking his hair, kissing his flushed face,  _ thanking Tony _ for coming inside of him like Tony wasn’t the one who was goddamn blessed to be here.

In the silence that followed where the sound of their labored breathing was the only thing to be heard in their home, Tony’s hand found Peter’s somewhere between them and tangled their fingers together. One of the robe’s ties was wound around his hand, soft silk and softer skin weaving pleasantly beneath Tony’s own calloused palms.

“Good morning,” Peter said quietly, his forehead coming to rest against Tony’s. “I forgot to say that to you, earlier.”

“Yeah,” Tony hummed in reply. “It is.”


End file.
